Off with her head!
If things couldn't already get worse for John Kerry, he can always depend on someone to make them that way. Especially his wife.

Now, Ter-AHH-Zuh Heinz-Kerry is just the kind of woman you would expect a lilly-livered-Francophile-metrosexual-New England-liberal (who incidentally served in Vietnam) to marry: she's a shrew. A rich shrew. And not to insult all shrews, but she has better PR than most.

Exhibiting that haughty, European attitude that gets most females of democratic bent all lathered up with wet dreams of having the opportunity to vicariously direct Presidential power via sexual organs and the power of the purse, Ter-AHH-Zuh is this season's Hilary. Think of her as one would the latest line of the same-old-been-there-done-that-retro clothing from Chanel or De La Renta. She's the new plunging neckline for this political season.

In fact, most people would, I think, agree, that if Ter-AHH-Zuh had slightly bigger balls, most of us would consider her a man and take her into an alley to settle things in the time-honored tradition. But I digress.

You can see that this is a woman used to getting her way, and she doesn't care how she does it. And following in the hallowed footsteps of the Hildebeest, Ter-AHH-Zuh just HAD to have a forum during her husband/cabana-boy's Presidential Campaign. Probably had something to do with that mysterious mortgage on the family compound in Georgetown or something. But anyway, what John-boy should have realized is that if you gave that sort of woman an open microphone, she would eventually speak her mind --- in place of what you wanted her to say. And force you to fervently pray every time she did so.

The woman leaves the reservation everytime she opens her mouth. Remember when Ter-AHH-Zuh railed about the coarseness of American politics and then told a reporter who asked a pointed question to "stuff it"? Well, in the great tradition of casting pearls before swine, Mrs. Heinz-Kerry (and notice how she kept her first husband's name?) emitted yet another gem today. In regards to the victims of the repeated hurricanes in the Carribean and the need to deliver aid to those in need, Ter-AHH-Zuh managed this pointed, observation:

(Full text lifted from YahooNews.com):

Teresa Heinz Kerry, encouraging volunteers as they busily packed supplies Wednesday for hurricane relief efforts in the Caribbean, said she was concerned the effort was too focused on sending clothes instead of essentials like water and electric generators.
"Clothing is wonderful, but let them go naked for a while, at least the kids," said Heinz Kerry, the wife of Democratic presidential candidate John Kerry.

Ah yes, that haughty old Marie-Antionette thing.

And since John is so enamored of the French, I'll bet he's looking for a guillotine right now.

Open mouth, insert foot, Mrs. Heinz-Kerry. Or, at least have a servant lift your royal leg before inserting the regal tootsie in the imperial gob. Hmmm, children running around naked in places that are a) flooded and b) tropical. Sounds good to me. After we dry the little bastards out (the ones that don't die from exposure, mosquitos, leeches, etc., that is), we can make sure their tender skin burns in the Carribean sun for lack of a shirt or a hat. God forbid we send sunscreen or perhaps medicine to them before power is restored. Yes, let's make sure all the little tykes have PC's, a government-sponsored health insurance plan and a college education before we do something as mundane, and ultimately useless, as clothe them.

Would Ter-AHH-Zuh go naked? I doubt it, and I might kill myself if she did. Would any of her children go naked? Get serious. A Kerry care-package would probably consist of two bottles of Chateaux du Rothchilds, a wheel of Brie, table-water crackers and perhaps a small tub of beluga. Need a blanket? Forget it. Need clothing? Forget it. Priority dictates that we make sure you have cell phones, television and tanning beds before you have clothing.

John Kerry should sit down with his wife and takes his testicles back. Then he should lock the old battleaxe away to keep her away from the microphones. The man is already dying, he doesn't need anymore help.